Each Lesson - Poem by James McLain
Can even my one lesson,
Taught by you be different to me again.
Over and over a green board of white chalk.
Words once small,
even again as we speak ever too me,
seem so large.
Head stones I glimpse,
like the stumps of old teeth.
I seek the same thing out, even now as a child.
The date on the stone that very first date,
that I so young, sought out.
Carved their upon, open the bark as does the sap.
Up the ladder to each, 'V 'the bucket half full.
When were they born, how long did they stay,
have they come back to teach.
What did they say.
and here now again, am I gone back beyond reach
and now once again they here around us, gone.
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